By Jessica Gelt and Ashley Lee

Three exhibitions Desire is at the center of Laura Krifka’s figurative oil paintings in “Carousel”; Canadian painter Tristram Lansdowne explores the use of representational space through water colors with “Burrito Planet”; and, marking the centennial of surrealism, “Unlocking the Mind: Early Surrealist Collages” focuses on Nathan Gluck’s World War II-era work.

By Lindsay Preston Zappas

In many of the works in Tristram Lansdowne’s exhibition, Burrito Planet, it seems gravity has taken a day off. In his watercolor works, landscapes stretch and warp around all four edges of the paper, becoming framing devices for the objects he depicts within — in one, a Western landscape takes a swift 90-degree turn, and is sent careening vertically down the edges of the drawing. Within these uncanny framing devices, Lansdowne plays cheeky trompe l’oeil games employing Magritte-style compositions. 

Lansdowne's detailed watercolors examine the painterly relationship between surface and volume as they pertain to our visual world. He approaches the combination of images intuitively, guided by a strategy of loose association and visual rhymes.

The gallery’s fall season starts off with three coinciding exhibitions: Laura Krifka Carousel, Tristram Lansdowne Burrito Planet, and Nathan Gluck Unlocking the Mind: Nathan Gluck’s Early Surrealist Collages. Krifka uses figuration to reflect upon our desires derived from human constructions. Lansdowne takes to watercolors to explore shifting genres. Gluck’s show looks at his career throughout the 1930s and 40s and the influence of the surrealist movement on his collages.

The exhibit, called 'Placeholder,' will feature the works of internationally renowned Tristram Lansdowne. Lansdowne was born in Victoria and has roots in the Cowichan Valley. The exhibit features a collection across 15 years of series. Lansdowne's artist statement says it showcases an evolution.

Lansdowne explores the various traditions of framing within the art historical canon – from the illusionism found in the murals of Pompeii, the realism of Flemish Renaissance painting, the techniques of American neoclassicism, and others.

Part verdant jungle, part Art Deco wallpaper, Lansdowne’s interiors combine the comforts of modern furniture with the adventure and intrigue of imaginative plant life. His sources draw from design websites, real estate listings, and product advertisements, modified in a way that produces exciting and intricate settings. His interiors are both inviting and unwelcoming, appealing and foreboding; critiquing the superficial nature of luxury real estate.

From his fascination with flying to his desire to see the world in its totality from space, [Jim] Adams’s decades-long art pursuit seems as much about the scope of his journey as a Black man moving through time and mapping the coordinates of pleasure and meaning as it is about the paintings those experiences have produced. This is the visual literacy we need to engage now, so that instead of performing allyship through what’s trending, viewers come to understand how Black diasporic people, and specifically, one Black man, might interpret identity and mobility vis-à-vis painting.

What better place to come down from a trip than within the cozy home of Tristam Lansdowne’s New Horizons I, where we admire the city from afar within the protective interior of neo-hippie modernism. Here, perhaps all that remains of our wild adventure are the ceramic vases perched on the fireplace, reminiscent of the magic cacti, now neutralized. Grab the pillows and lie down on the couch; the hyper-activity of your brain deserves a rest. 

The artist’s depiction of landscape is a subjective experience of the outdoors, a cultural and psychological construct.

Nothing is more engaging than fantasy. When at the height of imagination, we are capable of conjuring rational or unrealistic scenarios based purely on our own desires. The possibility, in combination with perceived actuality, defines existence. We are composed of things known and experienced, and that which can be imagined, which is eminently apparent in the paintings of Tristram Lansdowne. Drawing from the familiar visual cues, palettes and landscapes of his upbringing, yet drawn to imaginary exploration, Lansdowne’s environments reflect a surreal blend of otherworldly structures and recognizable, ever nostalgic elements.

If his work looks like your dusty Yes album jackets or the cover art of those Arthur C. Clarkes you toss aside in the used-book bin, it's for good reason; like them, artist Tristram Lansdowne is deeply concerned about the future. In his paintings, citrine glass biodomes are nestled among mountain peaks, volcanoes belch lavender plumes, and tidy concrete platforms negotiate cliff faces in as surefooted a way as Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater.